


for we are no wooden soldiers

by Tiara_of_Sapphires



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Stormtrooper Culture, Stormtrooper Rebellion, tros speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 07:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21115244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiara_of_Sapphires/pseuds/Tiara_of_Sapphires
Summary: They had the worst assignment in all of the First Order. Isolated and disgruntled, with the spark of FN-2187's rebellion on their minds, Kylo Ren comes with a new assignment and a chance to turn the tides of a seemingly-endless war.





	for we are no wooden soldiers

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, I had cobbled this together from what trailer stuff we had seen before 10/21. Also I have a major soft spot for the clones in TCW series so…it kind of carried over.
> 
> Big thanks to TehanufromEarthsea for beta-ing this for me.
> 
> Enjoy!

Though their stint on this red, shadowy planet had only begun its second week, Echo was already exhausted of it.

He wasn’t sure who in the chain of command Nova had pissed off to have them relegated to this position, but he cursed them all the same. Nova was an accomplished squad leader, so he didn’t understand why they weren’t living the high life on Arkanis or on one of the cushy protection details he had heard someone brag about in the mess hall.

The skies were bloodred more often than not and the night air so cold that someone had to be awake at all times to make sure the pipes didn't freeze over.

And then, there were the shadows that flitted between the trees.

Everyone was convinced the outside was haunted. The sensors would trip every so often, but nobody was brave enough to explore outside to find the source.

They were told to man the base and that was it. No snooping, no adventures.

There was no pass-off report from the previous squad. There were no reports that even said the name of the planet they stood on, only a redaction and coordinates.

It took Nines to do his usual canvassing for datapads and manuals in dusty closets from the Empire era and even as far back as the Old Republic to find that one snippet of information.

Echo wasn’t sure what kind of planet Moraband was or why the First Order cared so much about it, but nobody dared ask.

* * *

Though it wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary, Echo found himself plagued by nightmares.

Normally, his dreams were filled with endless battlefields and trainings he couldn’t pass no matter how hard he tried.

This time, he walked down a dim hallway. His standard-issue boots tapped too loud against the durasteel floor.

A sound floated down the hallway, a rhythmic whisper increasing in intensity every moment that passed.

It sounded like a chant, one of the things that his superiors loved to deride. Uncivilized, brutish, unlike what the First Order stood for.

He stumbled down the hallway, the shouting of multitudes reverberating in his head.

“_Come home. There is nothing for you where you are now._”

Echo covered his ears and tried to shut out the sound.

“_It is coming soon. You must reach out with both hands. No fear, no hesitation._”

Blasterfire rang out, snuffing out the song and leaving him in the fading echo.

“_Or die_.”

Echo woke up with his heart pounding and sweat lining his brow.

After fumbling his way out of the barracks, he sat alone in the tiny mess hall with half the rations that a normal meal would allow. Supply runs were few and far between, especially in the Outer Rim. Perhaps that was what happened to the previous squad that manned the base: they all starved.

Rein’s theory was that a monster roamed outside the base, breaking in and killing everyone. Nobody believed his fantastical stories, of course.

Tak was on patrol and Nova in the comms tower, leaving everyone else to do…anything to make themselves useful. While there were sensors to monitor and general maintenance things to be done, they tried to get away with doing as little as possible.

It’s not as if their superiors would wander out to the base anyway.

Echo stepped into the control center to find over half of the squad milling about.

“Good morning, Echo!” Sketch shouted from where he sat, feet up and a holo-drama playing off the projector.

Echo winced at the loud sound before taking a look over the sensors. Outside of the normal trip from the hourly patrol, not a soul had touched the sensor since the last time he had checked.

Surely, there would’ve been some kind of large wildlife to trip the sensors. Since they had arrived, they had seen nothing bigger than insects around the grounds.

Nines crossed his arms over his chest and stomped his feet, cursing. They were rationing Tibanna at that point, just enough to keep the base powered, not enough to warm to a comfortable temperature.

Echo blew air into his hands and tried not to jump when Booker spat out something in a language he couldn't understand.

“What are you saying?” Echo sighed. “If you’re gonna be grumbling to yourself, we might as well know what you’re saying.”

Booker at least had the decency to look apologetic, bouncing a little on his feet. “There’s some old records in one of the maintenance closets. Mandolorian. They have some fun curses.”

“Of course, he’s reading,” Rein called out. “Shouldn’t you be doing target practice instead of keeping your face in a datapad?”

Booker twisted his expression mockingly. “You should do more reading yourself, dumb pile of bantha shit,” he mumbled.

Echo patted Booker’s shoulder while turning to Rein. “Not like it’ll do much for us out here, Mandolorian or target practice.”

Minutes, hours, nobody really kept track with such a monotonous assignment, passed without incident.

That was, until Nova stormed in, her normally dark skin taking a grey-ish pallor. Sketch, the one nearest to the door, scrambled to his feet. “Sergeant on deck.”

Everyone snapped to attention.

Nova rolled her eyes and waved them off with the datapad in her left hand.

“At ease, now listen up.”

She waved the datapad in the air as the squad eased back into their previous positions. She was clearly trying to keep herself contained and calm. Whatever information came in was important.

“I just received a dispatch from the _Bloodhound_. The Supreme Leader will be arriving to tour the base in half a planetary cycle.”

Rein choked on a sip of caf as a thrum of nervousness carried through all in the room.

“The Supreme Leader is coming here?” Sketch asked, breathless. It wasn’t the kind of excitement that would come from the issue of a new blaster model or the rare software update that was actually useful. No, this was the fearful excitement that now vibrated in the air amongst them all.

Though the reports painted the battle on Crait as a near-absolute victory for the First Order, one had to be blind to not see that they had sustained heavy losses. The succession of the new Supreme Leader, after the Jedi had murdered Snoke, brought gossip aplenty.

Was the temperamental force that was Kylo Ren going to lead the First Order to total victory? Or was he a simple figurehead while the likes of Hux really pulled the strings?

“That’s right. I have no idea why the Supreme Leader would want to come here, but apparently that is need-to-know information that we do not need to know. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Sergeant,” Kit said.

“Alright, start tidying up,” Nova ordered, clapping her hands.

“On it,” Sketch said, jumping up and bolting from the room. Everyone else filed out after him with less enthusiasm, but willing to finish the task their sergeant gave them.

* * *

Stormtroopers had very little to their names—numbers, really—so that was no problem in sorting away any personal items. It was the dust and the puddles and frost where the tibanna burned too hot or didn't burn enough that were the issue.

That was obnoxious to deal with, even when it was just habitual cleanings done over the course of a day. Frantically trying to make the decrepit base look presentable in less than a day was practically unbearable. Fear of getting disemboweled kept them from slacking on their work.

Echo finished the last painstaking corner in the main hall when Nova’s voice sounded over comms.

“Upsilon-class ship has made its descent into the atmosphere. Rendezvous at the control center, at attention.”

Echo cursed under his breath before rushing to the barracks and making sure he didn't look like a complete mess.

They didn't see a lot of combat and had hardly any need to wear their armor if not to adhere to regulation. The squad converged on the control center, armor glossy and unstained by blaster burn.

“How long do you think we have?” Tak wondered aloud. He rubbed his hand over blond hair before putting on his helmet.

“Minutes,” Rein answered flatly.

Tak whined, “How many minutes?”

Nobody gave him a real answer. Instead, they all stood side-by-side, waiting to be presented to the Supreme Leader.

Echo clenched his hands by his side, glancing over the HUD in his helmet. The squad’s numbers listed in a neat little line when he glanced to the top left, the time when he glanced to the bottom right.

“OU-155, you and your squad retire to the barracks while the Supreme Leader makes a sweep of the base,” came a tinny voice over comms.

They exchanged confused glances before filing out of the control tower and to the barracks.

“Wonder what that’s all about,” Tak mumbled.

Rein was quick to rib him. “Probably doesn’t want to see your ugly mug.”

“Cut the chatter,” Nova snapped. Stress was obvious in her voice. Everyone took the hint to shut up and walk in file to their clean barracks.

“Buckets off, Sergeant?” Echo asked as soon as the door slid closed behind them.

Nova visibly sagged from the way she had her spine and shoulders held stiff and regal. “Buckets off.”

Echo sat down on one of the footlockers as they all got comfortable. Not too comfortable, since any moment the helmets would be back on and it would be back to performing a show for the Supreme Leader.

“A finicky guy, I guess,” Rein shrugged.

“That guy could slice you in half as soon as look at you,” Echo mumbled. “Mind your words.”

Part of it was reflexive deference to their leader and also pure self-preservation. If the Supreme Leader could hear his thoughts and decided that reconditioning was too lenient a punishment, Echo could find himself within striking distance as Rein’s squadmate.

“Comms are quiet. Not even Supreme Leader’s guards,” Kit mused. The medic worried at a bacta patch on her hand, covering a cut from a stray wire, as if she didn't snap at everyone else who did something similar.

“They might be on a private channel,” Nova sighed.

“That’s never happened before,” Striker said, kicking out to nudge Kit’s knee. “We should be in on whatever is happening, right?”

“I just hope we aren’t in trouble.”

“It’s not like we do much of anything good or bad here. They would have to actively be looking for a reason to punish us,” Tak grumbled.

The door opened and there was a shadow in the doorframe.

“Supreme Leader!” Sketch exclaimed before anyone else could move or say anything.

In a rush of sound and motion, the squad scrambled to their feet, saluting to the masked figure that stood before them.

Silence reigned and Echo could hear his heartbeat pound in his ears.

“At ease,” came the rasping order.

They obeyed and stood at parade rest, watching Lord Ren as he stepped further into the room. No yelling, no destructive laser sword. Just a few simple words.

For a long moment, nobody said anything.

“OU-155.”

Nova’s back stiffened as she addressed him with all the formality. “Yes, sir.”

“Sergeant, you are inspired by FN-2187, defector and traitor to the First Order.”

Everyone froze, as if someone had pulled the pin on a grenade and thrown it into the middle of the room. Too late to move and get away from the explosion.

Lord Ren wouldn’t accuse their sergeant of treason without cause. Or maybe he would. Echo had heard rumors of the moody, ruthless man, but had no facts to confirm it.

“I can see into your mind, Sergeant,” Lord Ren said with undisguised amusement. “You might as well tell the truth.”

Nova gritted her teeth, shoulders stiff. She didn't wince in fear.

“Yes, Lord Ren. I apologize.”

Kit made a tiny noise, like she had been punched in the gut.

Nova had sentenced herself to reconditioning, if not outright execution.

“And the rest of your squad?” Lord Ren asked, looking out to Echo and his fellow squadmates.

Nova stepped forward, closer to her would-be executioner. “It wasn’t their fault,” she insisted, “I should have suppressed the story and I failed. Punish me, not them.”

“Sergeant,” Kit started before Striker drove an elbow into her side to cut her off, hissing for her to keep quiet.

They were all guilty of it. They toyed with the idea, a wild fantasy they were allowed to have since they were so far away from command and from the threat of reconditioning. Freedom, defection, the things that were beaten and trained out of them had bloomed into very real possibilities.

Echo would’ve jumped in front of his sergeant, as if he would’ve been fast enough to intervene.

Instead, Lord Ren reached to his helmet and undid the invisible latches in tiny clicks. The front apparatus creaked and slid up.

The whole room seemed to hold its breath. A trooper knew their squadmates’ faces like their own. They saw very few faces outside of the officers and the occasional medic. Even in the mess halls on the giant cruisers, squads ate with each other, the buckets returning over their heads the moment the last bite of rations was gone.

Kylo Ren kept his face from everyone, with the exception of the aftermath following Starkiller.

Rumors flew from there and when the helmet came off, it only confirmed those stories.

Pale skin and long black hair. A distant, detached thought wiggled in Echo’s mind that he was strangely attractive.

Lord Ren regarded them all with a deceptively flat expression. Echo felt analyzed, as if Lord Ren read his mind like he would a datapad.

The squad watched him and waited for the swift and hopefully painless end before finally Lord Ren shook his head.

“I see. All of you, your loyalty to the First Order has wavered.”

Nobody dared deny it, though Kit stepped forward to move in front of Striker. Her defense would only delay Striker’s death for a few moments, but Echo could appreciate the sentiment.

Echo exhaled. “We apologize, Lord Ren. The—the loathsome Resistance propaganda—,” Echo started in a last-ditch attempt to save the squad, only to freeze as Lord Ren lifted his hand, palm out.

His inscrutable expression wavered for a moment, the corner of his lip turning up just slightly.

“Good,” he said. “I had sensed I would find who I needed here.”

The tension didn’t abate, only guilt turning to confusion.

“S—sir?” Nova sputtered.

Lord Ren shook his head before turning on his heel. “We don’t have much time. Follow me.”

The compulsion to follow orders pulled at his chest, but the confusion had him hesitating. He was First Order, his superior, but he was betraying the First Order?

Lord Ren glanced back at them with a smile twisting his mouth.

“They’re going to assume that you are part of the plot and will execute you if you don’t leave with me, so you might as well follow me.”

When Nova started forward, following Lord Ren, the rest fell in line. Of course, they would. They would follow Nova to the ends of the galaxy if they had to.

“So, where are we going, boss?” Rein wondered aloud.

Nova glanced over her shoulder to give him a withering look.

“What will you have us do, Lord Ren?” Nova asked slowly, as a rebuke to Rein’s levity.

“There is a reason why the First Order has a base out here. A few clicks out, there is a temple with an artifact. I am here to get it.”

“Why do you need us, sir? You—you are the most powerful being here,” Sketch asked.

Lord Ren turned back with a thoughtful expression. “I couldn't trust anyone. This isn’t something I can do alone.”

The troopers exchanged incredulous glances. If Lord Ren—an all-powerful Force user—couldn’t do this mysterious task, how could they be of any help?

“I need an escort and someone to keep the ship warm for a quick getaway,” he continued before turning to Nova. “You take point, Sergeant.”

Nova started. “Me?”

“This is your squad, isn’t it?”

Echo felt utter relief melt his bones. The fear of having to take orders from someone unfamiliar like Lord Ren disappeared. He knew how Nova was, as did everyone else in the squad. They would fall in line behind her and, by extension, behind Lord Ren as well.

Nova paused, chewing on her lip.

“Rein, Striker, and Tak, go to the ship. Take out anyone who tries to stop you. The rest of us, we’ll follow you, sir.”

Lord Ren nodded. “Good plan. There is the pilot and two troopers. Best to remove them before they can send a distress signal.”

“Right,” Nova said, nodding. “If the First Order sends a Destroyer after us, we won’t be able to leave the planet.”

Now, Lord Ren seemed to smile, though it seemed more wistful than anything else. “I’m a fairly good pilot.”

* * *

At first, the shadows amongst the trees looked like game animals, but it became clear that there were sentient beings just beyond the base’s perimeter.

“We thought no one else was on the planet,” Echo breathed.

These beings were cloaked in black, armed with weapons he had never seen before.

Lord Ren grunted, garbled under the mask. “That was why you were mandated to not leave the base perimeter. The squad before you didn't follow orders and were summarily slaughtered.”

Despite the horrible image that flashed across his mind, Echo couldn't help but exhale a laugh. Rein would jump for joy to hear that his fantastical theory actually had merit.

“Who are they?”

“I was once their leader, the Knights of Ren, but as the First Order grew, they were relegated to Moraband to guard ancient artifacts.”

“And are we here to get one of the artifacts?” Kit asked.

“Good observation. Someone else will be coming for it and I need to make sure I get it first.”

They got their first clear look of the Knights at the entrance of a cave. Two figures stood in front of the opening, masked like Lord Ren and carrying barbaric weapons.

Lord Ren stepped forward, gesturing for them to stay back. “I’ll take care of the guards.”

They hid amongst the trees and Lord Ren approached. His lightsaber activated with a discordant hiss and there were two cut-off shouts and the sound of flesh being torn before silence reigned again.

Lord Ren entered the cave and they followed, passing two smoking corpses on the way.

This passage was very nondescript. For some reason, Echo thought of pointed rocks and boobytraps. The very atmosphere was enough to be a deterrent. It crawled under his armor, closing around his throat.

The pressure built and built until the claustrophobic passage opened up into a round chamber. The lights from their visors were the only light source, frantic flashes until they all trained to the center of the room.

A device only a little bigger than a closed fist sat on a pedestal, catching the light from their visors. They approached it slowly.

Untouched by dust, the device was all shiny black planes fused together with red lining. It didn't look natural and it didn't look man-made either.

“What is that?” Echo asked, the one question that it seemed everyone was wondering except Lord Ren.

He plucked it out of its perch and shuddered. The chill closed over them for a moment before abating. Lord Ren straightened, shaking himself. “A holocron. This is a holocron.”

“I thought those were a myth!” Booker exclaimed, hissing audibly as his voice echoed.

Lord Ren tucked it into his robes.

“We have our prize and hopefully an end to the war. Let’s go.”

They filed back out of the cave. Their footsteps echoed and for a moment the light blinded them when they stepped out.

Shadowy figures sprinted through the mangled trees.

“Boss?” Sketch asked, audibly concerned.

The Knights could think that they were on their side, or they were going to try to kill the would-be thieves.

“Get ready,” Lord Ren growled.

He activated his saber.

“Run them down and get to the ship. Don’t get pinned down here. Go.”

Echo clicked off the safety of his blaster and fired a volley of blasts into the tree line before running forward.

He didn't hit anything, but it deterred anyone from getting in his path in the short space between the cliffside and the trees.

Lord Ren and the rest of the squad fanned out as they ran into the forest. Actually killing Knights was an afterthought. Running to the ship was the most important. With a ship, they had a better chance to survive.

He turned just in time to see Lord Ren plow through one of the knights, gutting them with the crossguard of his lightsaber.

Echo sprinted forward, dodging around trees and over fallen logs.

His lungs burned from exertion as the base became larger and larger in view. As he pressed behind a tree to get his bearings back, he watched Sketch die.

Sketch didn't stand a chance. He was mid-turn back from where he came when a spear shot through the air and pierced his chest. His chestplate shattered in a spray of white shards and he fell the ground.

“Sketch!” Kit shouted, a useless cry.

A brief message scrolled into the HUD: _MU-5384, deceased_.

Kit dispatched the already-injured Knight with a few blasts before they could celebrate the kill for that long.

The horror of the death couldn't set in just yet. They couldn't stop fighting or they would die similar deaths.

They could hear blasterfire and the humming of Lord Ren’s saber behind them, nothing but silence before them.

“We need to go back,” Kit yelled.

“What? We need to get to the ship! Lord Ren’s orders—” Echo yelled back, trailing off as Kit sprinted back where they came.

Echo glanced back towards the base before following Kit back into the melee.

There was a lot of noise, but it seemed like they were handling it. There were smoking carcasses of black-clothed figures and discarded weapons.

Lord Ren sparred with a Knight wielding a double-bladed axe and another with a club. He made short work of the club-wielder, cleaving the weapon in half between slashing through their abdomen.

In Lord Ren’s distraction, the axe-wielder caught Lord Ren in the side. The horrible sound of metal tearing fabric and skin and impacting on flesh filled the clearing.

“No!” Blood sprayed on the ground and Echo's arms moved without question. The bolt struck the cloaked knight in the throat and the figure crumpled to the ground next to Lord Ren.

Immediately, Kit rushed forward to their fallen leader. Echo and Booker provided cover fire to keep the retreating Knights at bay. They killed all but two, from what Echo could see.

“Echo, help me with him!” Kit yelled as she struggled to pull Lord Ren behind a tree and out of harm’s way.

Echo scrambled forward and grabbed around his shoulders.

The holocron had fallen out of his cloak and clattered to the ground. Nova scooped it up and placed it in her satchel.

“We need to get to the ship before they can send a distress signal. Come on!”

They ran as fast as they could with Lord Ren in their arms, cursing internally as they scaled the stairs to the landing pad.

He distantly saw the original pilot in a crumpled heap on the tarmac.

“Where’s Tak?” Echo yelled into the cockpit.

“Tak took a bullet for me,” Rein shouted back, matter-of-fact. “Striker has the engines hot and we gotta go.”

Echo distantly remembered seeing a name flash on his HUD, but the rush of battle left it all in a smear.

Later, once everything calmed down, they would be able to mourn their losses. Sketch and Tak would’ve been treated as replaceable parts by the higher-ups, but never truly forgotten by their squadmates.

It was all on Striker’s shoulders, now, to get them away from this cursed planet. Lord Ren couldn't show off his piloting skills and make a tactical getaway, aided by his mystical powers.

The loading ramp closed behind them as the ship 

“Why isn’t the medical droid working?” Nova shouted, kicking at the droid that leaned heavily against the ship’s wall.

She fumbled with the latches on Lord Ren’s helmet, finally able to pry it off. It revealed a ghostly white and blood-flecked. Kit spat out a curse before beginning her work.

“Accidentally shot the thing while getting rid of the pilot. Why do we need—oh _kriff_,” Rein muttered as he glanced back to see Lord Ren’s wounded form.

Kit was already in full medic-mode, but to have a medical droid to assist would’ve increased their odds substantially.

“If he dies, it’s on me,” he muttered.

“It’s on all of us, Rein, now, shut up and make sure we don’t get blown up before we reach friendly space,” Kit snapped.

Nobody needed to say aloud that nowhere would be friendly to a First Order ship full of First Order defectors. Just going dark and getting out of the system would be the priority.

An Upsilon-class fighter stuck out like fresh blood in the snow. There was no way they would be able to traverse known space without having to ditch the ship and find something more discreet.

Lord Ren writhed where he lay, mouth gaped and mumbled nonsense.

“I thought people like him couldn't die,” Nova breathed.

Booker shot her an incredulous look. “Haven’t you read about the Great Jedi Purges? Skywalker’s fall?”

“You read _everything_, Booker, by the stars and planets. Did you read anything about patching up a wound like this?” Kit snapped.

Looking contrite, Booker backed away as Kit crowded in close.

“We need something to stop the bleeding. Echo, stop staring at the man and do something.”

Echo snapped to attention and turned to one of the crates. He dug out a handful of cream-colored rags and pressed them against the wound.

Infection would be something to be dealt with later. Kylo Ren would die if they didn't stop the bleeding.

Blood immediately soaked into the cloth, almost soaking through before Kit administered the bacta and stitches. It was slow going in the crowded space and the dim lighting. This ship wasn’t meant to be used for a surgery room.

Slowly, the blood flow ebbed and began to dry on his skin and clothes.

“Should we clean him off?” Echo asked.

Kit shook her head. “We need to wait until the bacta and stitches start working. I don’t want to disturb them and cause more bleeding.”

She reached across his body to grab an empty packet of bacta when suddenly Lord Ren stirred with a grunt.

Kit recoiled, barely missing Lord Ren’s head as he jerked upright.

“Rey,” he gasped. His eyes were wide and unfocused, as if he was looking at something that was far away from them. “Don’t touch her. Don’t touch her.”

The ship shuddered around them and the vital monitors flickered.

“Lord Ren, you need to lie down.” Kit said, slow and loud, as if speaking to an unruly subordinate. She fumbled with one of the drips attached to his arm. “You will open up your stitches.”

He waved a weak hand, trying to push Kit away but with the strength of a newborn Loth-cat he could only weakly nudge her before sagging back onto the thin cot.

“I have to get there in time,” he whispered.

Echo stretched out a shaky hand and rested it on his shoulder. “You will, Lord Ren. Rest, so you will be at full strength when the time comes.”

Inexplicably, the words worked, as his eyes flickered shut and his body went limp. That, or the tranqs Kit gave him finally set in.

“That was weird,” Kit muttered, flicking a strand of hair back into place.

Booker crossed his arms over his chest, as if to hug himself. “He knows the Force, or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” Echo breathed.

Kit shook her head, pressing the meat of her palm between her eyes. “We need to find a medical center and quickly.”

“What’s the nearest inhabited system?” Nova called out.

Striker stepped out of the cockpit to join them. “I set course for Naboo. We can land in one of the forested areas and carry him to the nearest city.”

Nova shrugged. “Sounds like our best bet. Hopefully they don’t recognize him.”

“That will be an issue no matter where we go,” Striker mumbled.

She turned on the autopilot and dusted herself off.

“How’s our boss?”

“Stable, I think. You better ask Kit.”

Striker didn't need to be told twice. Echo glanced back into the cockpit and sighed.

There was a part of him that wished he was still in his cold bunk on Moraband. Things were simpler there.

* * *

An hour passed in silence. Lord Ren didn't stir from where he lay and his vitals stayed weak but constant.

Striker had to physically keep Kit from checking on him every ten seconds.

“I wish we had a sabaac table in here,” Rein mumbled.

Nobody argued with him, though the chances of Lord Ren’s ship having anything entertaining aboard were small.

Nova pulled out the holocron from her satchel and held it up. “All this trouble over this thing, huh?”

“It’s supposed to hold information,” Booker mumbled. “Maybe it has the map for a secret hyperspace lane or ancient battle strategies.”

“A load of bantha crap, in my opinion. You found it in a cave. What good is something like this a cave?” Rein asked.

Nova shrugged, turning it in the light.

A strange feeling crawled up Echo’s spine. “I think you should put that away.”

“Why?” Kit wondered.

“Just—just do it. Please. It feels like you’re just holding a live grenade in your hand.”

Nova eyed him strangely before returning the holocron back into her bag, perhaps a little more roughly than she needed to.

The clatter of metal and stone on the duraplastic equipment already in the pack was lost when the ship jolted, almost sending Echo out of his seat and onto the floor The hum of the hyperdrive popped and turned eerily silent and still.

For a moment, nobody moved, scarcely breathed. Then there was a flurry of motion.

Striker jumped up from her place next to Kit and sprinted to the cockpit.

“What’s happening?” Nova demanded, close behind.

Striker hopped into the pilot seat and checked whatever controls were still online.

“Malfunction, sabotage. I have no idea but we’ve been leaking fuel for the past hour,” Striker reported. “We’re dead in the air.”

That sentence lingered like a death knell. Either they were going to get found by the First Order, taken in, and executed or the Resistance would find them and blow them to bits before they could get on comms to beg for their lives.

And that would have to happen before the life support system failed and killed them outright.

“What are our options?” Nova sighed.

Striker tapped at the controls before slapping her hand against the console. “Look for a neutral comm channel and broadcast a distress signal. I could try to hotwire the hyperdrive but I don’t have a droid to help me and I don’t want to risk turning us into space dust.”

She sighed and sat back, looking at their faces. Echo didn't need to hear her next words to know that they were basically dead.

* * *

The air was starting to feel stale when the sensors sparked just enough to alert that something just came out of hyperspace right next to them.

“Help?” Nova asked, pressing close to the viewport.

Echo glanced over her shoulder in time to hear her shocked gasp of breath. It was clear what would create such a reaction.

Filling the viewport was a huge mining ship. From the yawning hangar appeared Resistance X-wing fighters.

“How the _fuck_ did they find us?” Nova breathed.

Booker scrambled into the already cramped cockpit, almost sending Echo falling out of the space and onto his ass. “Turn the engine on!”

“I can’t!” Striker yelled back, poring over the controls.

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t, that’s why!”

“Yelling isn’t going to help. Shut up!” Nova boomed.

That order had them all quieting down.

Echo hummed to himself. It turned out the rumors of mining colonies allying with the Resistance were true.

It wasn’t a beaten-up mining ship, either, a paltry symbol of support, but a state-of-the-art vessel that could hold a small fleet as well as it could tons of precious fuel.

“50 credits say they blow us out of the sky,” Rein grumbled.

They could be light about it. They already betrayed everything that they knew and made their own decisions for once. To die after that wouldn’t be too bad.

Echo looked at the ship and back towards Kit and Lord Ren. “I’ll take that bet.”

The Resistance weren’t fools, though the First Order liked to cast them as such. This class of ship by itself could be used for intelligence and reconnaissance. They wouldn’t blow them to stardust when they had no way to attack or flee.

The nuance of the situation was clearly lost on Booker, who lunged at the transmitter, opened the channel, and screeched, “We surrender! Don’t kill us, please!”

Nova grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and pulled him back, allowing Striker to take his place in front of the transmitter.

“Do not fire,” she said, slow and calm. “We are noncombatants. We are unarmed. I repeat, this ship is full of noncombatants and we are unarmed. Do not fire.”

For a few heart stopping moments, no response came and they could only assume a barrage of missiles was coming their way.

A tinny voice sounded loud in the small space. “You are a First Order vessel. You are automatically combatants.”

Striker turned back to her squadmates, a question on her face.

“What do I say now?” she asked.

“Say we stole it,” Rein suggested.

Booker clapped his hands over his face and moaned, “As if they would believe that!”

Nova gestured that Striker stand and sat in the pilot’s seat. “We surrender this ship and ourselves to your care. We ask for your mercy.”

A _harrumph_ sounded and the line went silent. Death didn't immediately come for them, but there was a moment where they all seemed to accept that the Resistance had to real reason to give them quarter

“Well, no amount of begging is going to save us now,” Striker said with a shrug.

The ship shuddered again before it slowly drifted to the maw of the ship’s landing bay.

Nova nodded, satisfied with this turn of events. “They aren’t going to kill us.”

“They aren’t going to blow us up. There’s a difference.”

Each of them had been injured by blasterfire. They could figure what being killed by blasterfire would feel like.

“Do you think an airlock would hurt?” Rein mused.

“I don't know,” Striker replied. “I haven’t asked anyone who’s been through it.”

Every moment that passed meant that they were still alive.

“Take off your armor,” Kit called out from her impromptu station at Lord Ren’s bedside.

Echo turned to see Kit had already removed her gauntlets and chest plate. “Why should we do that?” he asked.

Her hands stalled for a moment over her greaves before she unstrapped those as well. “It will make us look less intimidating,” she replied.

“And it would make it easier for them to kill us when they immediately open fire on us.”

Rein did make a compelling point, as much as his tone grated on Echo’s nerves. Neither choice was great. Either way they were likely to be shot at.

“Nova?” Booker wondered, looking to the sergeant for direction.

She pursed her lips before sighing. “Do as Kit says. And stow away your weapons. We want to appear as unarmed.”

“We are definitely going to be blasted to pieces,” Rein muttered as he pried off his greaves and tossed them in one of the little storage containers.

Nova sighed. “Have a little optimism or they _are_ going to blast a hole in your chest.”

They removed their armor as fast as they could as the ship got closer and closer.The First Order logo was embossed on the black underclothes and Echo wanted nothing more than to burn it off.

He was free from them, as far as he was concerned. He didn't want to die because other people thought he was still loyal to them.

The ship dropped to the hanger floor with a shudder.

“Look alive,” Nova warned.

Echo stepped forward and set the ramp to lower, before backing up quickly.

Blinding light spilled into the otherwise dark ship. As their eyes adjusted, all they could see was a crowd of armed soldiers led by the Jedi, the demon that topped every single piece of First Order propaganda.

They were going to kill them. This was an execution squad.

Echo moved without thinking. He scooped up the blade from Lord Ren’s side and started forward, stepping at the crest of the loading ramp. “Wait!” he yelled.

The Jedi was on him in an instant. The scream of the lightsaber igniting and the bright light that engulfed his vision had him instantly recoiling. His feet stayed planted, the heat of the blade close to searing off his eyebrows.

“Echo, get away from there!” Nova shouted.

The warning didn't fully register as his eyes adjusted to see the tight brow and bright eyes. He lifted up Lord Ren’s saber to eye-level.

“Lord Ren is injured,” Echo said.

The beam dipped a touch, the words landing just as he had hoped.

“How?” the Jedi wondered.

“The Knights. Lord Ren called them the Knights. We defected and the Knights were sent after us.”

Beyond the bright blue glare, her expression shifted among a dozen emotions.

“Defected?”

Echo nodded eagerly, cling on to whatever chance at life he could. “Lord Ren came to us on Moraband. He led us to—to the ship and off-world.”

He stamped down mention of the holocron. The holocron, as well as the life of the Supreme Leader, might be their only bargaining chips.

“You can check our navi-computer. It’s true,” Striker chimed in.

The Jedi paused, her eyes flickering closed for a moment as she breathed. “He’s alive.”

“He promised us freedom if we went with him.”

The Jedi backed away a step and the blue light disappeared.

“Show me,” she ordered.

Echo stood aside as she strode into ship, ignoring the warnings from her fellow Resistance members. Echo looked out to see almost a hundred armed beings congregated around the ship, some at rest, others aiming their weapons right at them.

The Jedi stood at the bedside, hands twitching.

“Oh, Ben. What did you do to yourself?” she whispered.

Kit shuffled at her place as Lord Ren’s impromptu guard. She didn't dare put herself between the two of them, but the Jedi wouldn’t be able to make a quick kill if she was inclined to execute Lord Ren in his weakened state.

“Ma’am, I did all I could but we were short on supplies. I was able to stabilize him.”

The Jedi gritted her teeth and turned back towards her Resistance comrades.

“I need him in the medbay, now!” she shouted.

A tremor ran up Echo’s spine at the order and he saw his fellow squadmates shuffling uncomfortably. If someone of the Jedi’s rank had given an order like that, they would’ve been sprinting to obey, even if it was in aid of an enemy. An order was an order.

The Resistance milled and shifted and indignation welled up in his throat.

What were they doing?

“Now!” the Jedi barked.

The lights illuminating the ship’s insides flickered and the landing gears creaked. Pressure closed around Echo’s ears before abating.

In that moment, the call spread through the ranks and medics with a hoverbed pushed through the crowd. To make room for them, Rein, Striker, and Booker stood on the loading platform, furtively glancing between the enemy and their squadmates remaining in the ship.

Along with the medics, a rugged man with a commander’s insignia followed close behind.

“Who’s the sergeant in command?” he demanded.

“That would be me,” Nova said.

The Resistance leader looked her over. “What’s in the bag?”

Nova’s grip tightened around it. “None of your business, that’s what.”

“Giving me attitude isn’t going to make things any better for you or your squad.”

Nova held the bag close to her chest. “I’m not handing it over until I have a guarantee that you aren’t going to kill us all. That is my only condition.”

“You have my word.”

Nova showed her teeth. “Your word doesn’t mean shit to me.”

It was a lot of bluster when she was physically separated from most of her squad with little to no leverage.

“Take it from me,” the Jedi said. “_Commander_ Dameron isn’t going to shoot you in the back.”

Dameron glared at the Jedi before schooling his expression. Nova looked to the Jedi before handing over the bag.

“Lord Ren said it was a holocron,” Nova said.

The Jedi stiffened, color draining from her face.

She nearly ripped open the bag trying to get into it, pulling out the holocron and letting the rest drop to the ground.

“Hey!” Nova gasped, watching her belongings scatter around their feet.

“Master Jedi?” Dameron asked.

The Jedi stared at the holocron and back to Lord Ren, who was ready to be lead out the ship and to the med-bay.

“I’ll be in the med-bay with Ren. If anything happens to him, they’ll answer to me.”

She increased her volume with the last sentence, a threat and a promise to all who would listen. If anything happened to Lord Ren, it would only mean death. Echo could respect that authority, especially knowing that he and the rest of the former troopers would be right behind her to get their own hits in.

The medics guided the bed out of the ship, the Jedi close behind.

“I’m coming with you.” Kit started following before Dameron intercepted her.

“What makes you think you’re going anywhere except the brig for processing?”

Echo flinched, the thought of Kit flashing a hidden scalpel and cutting the man’s throat dancing through his head. It was said that one of the most dangerous places in the galaxy was the space between a combat medic and their charge. Kit, on more than one occasion, had fought viciously against enemy after enemy to get to a wounded comrade.

Commander Dameron would be no different, if he was too persistent.

“I’m the medic,” Kit sniffed. “I am in charge of this man’s care, as well as everyone else in this squad.”

The Jedi turned back and grabbed Kit by the shirtsleeve, practically dragging her away.

“I’ll make the decisions around here,” the Jedi mumbled.

Now, that left the rest of the squad and every battle-ready Resistance member in the ship.

Dameron looked them over and sniffed.

“Take them to the brig. No roughing them up. They are prisoners, but we aren’t the First Order.”

That wasn’t exactly reassuring, but Nova didn't give any signal to fight back. Echo obediently held out his hands for the binders and fell in line with the rest of the squad. Striker kept shooting concerned glances in the direction where Kit followed Lord Ren and the medics.

Booker muttered to himself, convinced that he was going to get a blaster to the brain at any moment. Rein trembled with energy, the heat from his face making the pale scar over his brow even more prominent.

They gave them the dignity of separate cells and a meal for their troubles.

Kit was escorted into her cell a few hours after them, shrugging when they called out wondering about Lord Ren’s status.

It was a lot of waiting from there. Rein warbled loud Corellian battle hymns so much that Echo was surprised one of the Resistance guards didn't just stun him to get him to shut up.

When the Jedi entered, she first went to Kit’s cell and had a short exchange. Echo couldn't hear, but he knew he could always ask once the Jedi left.

Echo gently thumped his head against the wall, staring at the ceiling.

They still weren’t dead, but a lifetime of imprisonment wasn’t much better either.

“What’s your name?”

The Jedi’s voice snapped him from his thoughts. He straightened his back in deference, unwilling to point out that the little screen over the cell lock had his name spelled out. “Echo, ma’am, ah, Master Jedi.”

“It’s Rey, not ma’am.”

He nodded. It would be strange to not constantly refer to people outside the squad by their given names. It was all sirs and ma’ams and titles.

“Rey. Thank you for sparing our lives. Mine, specifically. You could’ve killed me in an instant.”

The Jedi shrugged. “It was the heat of the moment and you were defending your friends. I respect that.”

Friends? Echo’s squadmates were more extensions of himself. There was no such thing as ‘friends’ in the First Order. But, now that they didn't need to fight, Echo could see how their roles in his life would change to something different.

“I must thank you for what you did, you and your squad,” Rey continued. “B—Kylo Ren is recovering, but hasn’t regained consciousness quite yet.”

She clearly didn't like that admission. Perhaps she considered it a weakness that her power couldn't make him healthy sooner.

Echo opened his mouth before he could check himself. “Lord Ren called out your name in his sleep. He was worried about you.”

A blush immediately spread over her face.

“Oh.”

She made a quick exit after that and Echo couldn't help but smile.

* * *

The next visitor came as a surprise.

Echo immediately recognized him: the set of his brow, his dark complexion, his list of offenses a mile long. Traitor, hero.

“You’re FN-2187,” Echo murmured.

He looked utterly unsurprised that Echo knew who he was. “Yes. People call me Finn, nowadays.”

“Finn,” he repeated.

“And you’re Echo.”

He nodded. “That’s my name.”

Finn’s mouth twitched. “Did you come up with it or did someone else decide to call you that and it just stuck?”

“I gave myself that name.”

He liked the way blasters sounded when they went off in cavernous target ranges, so he decided he was going to be called Echo. The rest of the squad accepted the name immediately. It was considered a grave insult to question those kinds of choices. To choose a name was to own it and they owned very little.

“Commander Dameron gave me my name. He didn't want to call me by a number.”

Echo couldn't help but smile a little at that. “Well, it is a lot shorter.”

It was clear after the years since he defected that Finn had shed most of his Stormtrooper ways. Echo wondered what it would be like to have that kind of independence.

“So, what’s going to happen to us?”

Finn hesitated for a moment. “Psych eval, according to the General. A quarantine to make sure you aren’t going to return to your training. From there, well, the General would give you all a choice: leave in peace and live out your lives, or join us and fight.”

Echo nodded. “I see.”

“What do you think you will choose?”

It was Echo’s turn to hesitate. He had had an opportunity to choose on Moraband, but a decision between life and death wasn’t really a proper choice. “It’s nice to have a choice in how my life will go. I don’t know.”

“I had to make that same decision and I chose to fight. That said, you don’t need to do what I did.”

Echo shrugged. “I’ll think about it. I’m more thinking about what my squad wants. It’s strange being separated from them like this.”

“I never was too close with my squadmates, but I was shoehorned into a squad when I was determined as battle-ready. You all seem to be a cohesive group.”

“Yes.”

“Did you lose anyone while trying to escape?”

“Two, Sketch and Tak,” Echo murmured, wincing. Their bodies would stay and rot on Moraband, or get picked apart by scavengers.

Few had the honor of their bodies being taken off the battlefield for burial. Funerals were for the superiors, those who donned grey cloth uniforms and didn't know the constant danger of the battlefield.

“You’ll make their sacrifices worth it. I know it.”

* * *

Echo stood in the mess hall line, feeling very out of place. He had missed the rest of his squad, who were already seated at a table, isolated from everyone else. Nobody was really making an effort to join them, either.

Nova was optimistic that after a few battle sims they would be able to better mesh with the Resistance but Echo wasn’t going to hold his breath.

Lord Ren was still in quarantine, but the squad was in no position to demand to know his whereabouts or if he was being held as a prisoner. Echo didn't see the Jedi Rey either anymore and he could only assume that she was with Lord Ren. The squad speculated among themselves what the nature of their relationship was, but they couldn't come to consensus.

When Rey had talked about Lord Ren, she shuffled and blushed the same way Striker would whenever Kit was in the room. That had to mean _something_. 

The server droid slapped some rations onto his plate. While really it didn't give him a dirty look, Echo could imagine it would share the sentiments some of the Resistance had towards him

“You can get seconds if you want,” a voice sounded over his shoulder.

He glanced back to see a softly smiling face and a tattooed set of tic marks on a tanned brow.

“Uh, thanks,” Echo stammered, suddenly floundering at the exchange. “What’s your name?”

That smile grew. He looked almost familiar to Echo, but he couldn't place it. “Cinco. Yours?”

It didn't ring any bells, and he could tell that it was only moments before the people in line behind them would start grumbling. “Echo,” he responded.

Cinco grinned at him, clapping his shoulder.

“Well, welcome to the Resistance, Echo.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this is a blatant Echo/Fives reincarnation story, fucking sue me.
> 
> All feedback is appreciated! It feeds the starving writer :D  
I am pumped to see what happens in TROS and I hope everyone else is too!
> 
> Cheers!


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